Neighborly Lessons: From Afro-Brazil to Afro-Paraguay

By

Lawrence Crockett

1/22/09

Introduction

In 2003, three Afro-Paraguayans—Claudelino, Victor, and Patricio—and I met in front of

a church located just outside of Embosada’s city limits to form a youth group, eventually

named La Misión de Descendientes Afros. We mutually agreed that Paraguayans, more

specifically Emboscadeños, lacked adequate knowledge of the historical and current

presence of Afro-descendants in Emboscada, Paraguay. Thus, our mission was to

investigate the history of the freed blacks that had arrived to Emboscada during the early

1720s1 and their involvement in the founding of Pueblo de Los Pardos Libres de San

Agustin de la Emboscada under Don Rafael de la Moneda from 1741 to 1740.2

Moreover, we hoped that our investigation would spur a sense of pride in Emboscada’s

African heritage among Emboscadeños and especially among those of African descent.

Although our intentions were noble, our investigation revealed that we lacked an

in-depth understanding of the ideology behind Paraguay’s racial formation, and how that

ideology subsequently eliminated the African identity from Paraguayan society. From

daily interactions with other Paraguayans and presentations before non-governmental

organizations and government officials, it was apparent that communities of Afro-

descendants were invisible to the rest of Paraguay. NGOs and government officials,

particularly, were baffled to hear that Afro-Paraguayan communities existed.

Additionally, we realized that history alone was insufficient in revealing those

linkages of African roots from the past to present-day Paraguay. Thus, we desired to

establish a coalition of Afro-Paraguayan groups to affirm the presence of an African

heritage in Paraguayan society. Even that was problematic because we were not aware of

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all the communities that embraced an Afro-Paraguayan identity, prompting the question:

how do we effectively organize Afro-Paraguayans to create public awareness, and

subsequently fair treatment of an African identity in Paraguay?

In hindsight, a crucial component absent from our mobilization was a paradigm:

a black social movement that resisted and challenged a country’s ideology and social

exclusion of Afro-descendants. To find this paradigm, Afro-Paraguayans need to look no

further than their neighbors: Afro-Brazilians. The organization and mobilization of

Afro-Brazilians has fostered a political identity that has influenced Brazilian legislators to

consider and implement, to some degree, public policies geared towards the

socioeconomic inclusion of blacks. An extensive examination of the Afro-Brazilian

movement would provide vital information—lessons learned—to Afro-Paraguayans as

far as influencing the Paraguayan institution to acknowledge its treatment of blacks and

make policies that address the socioeconomic disparities experienced by Afro-

Paraguayans.

Accordingly, this paper examines those lessons that Afro-Paraguayans could draw

from Afro-Brazilians. Before discussing those lessons, I will compare and contrast the

historical differences between Afro-Paraguayans and Afro-Brazilians. Politically, both

Paraguay and Brazil experienced dictatorships. For the purpose of this paper, I will focus

more on the Paraguayan dictatorships of Dr. José Gaspar Francia (El Supremo), and the

Brazilian dictatorships of Getúlio Dornelles Vargas and the military regime. These

dictatorships illuminate the ideology utilized to racially form their respective nation-

states.

2

After discussing political histories, the paper will examine the social impacts that

the dictatorships had on black existence in Paraguay and Brazil. Beyond the 1800s, Afro-

Paraguayans have been extinguished from Paraguayan historical records; as a result, their

current existence in Paraguayan society is invisible. In contrast to Afro-Paraguayans,

Afro-Brazilians remain visible throughout Brazilian history to the present, but they are

simultaneously socially included and excluded from Brazilian society. Both countries,

however, cling to ironic notions that racial discrimination is nonexistent and that

everyone is a citizen on the nation-state, forming one cultural identity: Brazilian and

Paraguayan.

The discussion will then shift from the social aspects to a discourse on the Afro-

Brazilian Movement. I emphasize some of the main achievements of the movement:

particularly, championing a dialogue on race in Brazil’s political arena. Not only the

achievements but also the failures of the Afro-Brazilian movement provide examples that

Afro-Paraguayans could draw from and apply to their own eventual social movement.

Ultimately, I conclude with a discussion on recent Afro-Paraguayan movements

to become more visible, and highlight Paraguay’s current political transition. Paraguay’s

recent presidential election ended sixty-one years of the Colorado Party’s rule. A sense

of hope has been restored among Paraguayans, hence, giving Afro-Paraguayans a

potential avenue to have their issues part of the new national political forum.

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From One Dictatorship to Another

On the surface, the differences between Paraguay and Brazil are unique in a variety of

ways: 1) Paraguay’s landlocked nature has traditionally isolated it from the rest of the

world, making it a little-known country; whereas, Brazil’s location has always exposed it

to foreign interests; 2) Brazil is the only Portuguese-speaking country in Latin America,

while Paraguay is the only country in Latin America that officially maintains its bilingual

heritage—Spanish and the indigenous language Guaraní, are the nations spoken

languages; and, 3) Scholars such as George Reid Andrews speculate that Paraguay’s

percentage of black population ranges from zero to four percent, which contrasts to

Brazil’s percentage of black population somewhere around fifty-four percent. Granted,

these distinctions allow the countries to differ from one another and the rest of Latin

America; nonetheless, the history of dictators and the pervasive ideology enacted during

their dictatorships make Paraguay and Brazil vastly singular.

Paraguay’s first dictator Dr. José Gaspar Francia ruled from 1814 until his death

in 1840. Francia, a Paraguayan criollo, was the son of José Engracia Rodriguez, a

Portuguese-Brazilian immigrant, and Maria Fabiana Velasco y Yergos, a descendant of a

prominent criollo family.3 The origins of Francia’s heritage would prove detrimental to

his matrimonial aspirations. Prior to assuming power, his Brazilian ancestry led to

rumors that he was a mulatto, which prevented him from marrying the love of his life.4

As a result, an embittered Francia became reclusive, developing a disdain for Spaniards.

I submit that this event was seminal to Francia’s ideology of Paraguay’s racial formation

once he became president of Paraguay.

4

During the 16th century, the few Spaniards that had settled in Paraguay mixed

with “comely Guaraní,” almost eradicating the presence of pure European blood in

Paraguayan society by the 1800s.5 Although the Spanish crown permitted the interracial

mixture of Indian-Spanish, the crown did not promote mestizaje.6 Nevertheless, the

mixture created a unique culturally homogeneous mestizo populace that linguistically

preferred Guaraní instead of Spanish7, setting the stage for Francia’s nationalistic ideals.

When Francia assumed power, his disdain for the Spaniards (generally, any

foreign influence) and fervor for nationalism served as the foundation for his directives

that aimed to eliminate European roots. Francia promulgated a law that Spaniards could

only marry Indians, “known mulattoes,” or blacks.8 In 1816, Dr. Francia decreed that

priests officiating illegal ceremonies, marrying Europeans to Europeans, would be

arrested along with the principal offenders.9 Historian John Hoyt Williams states, “This

very unusual law, enforced throughout the generation of his 26 year dictatorship, helped

decrease the proportion of visible whites (and blacks) in Paraguay; a genetical revolution

with obvious social implications which helped homogenize his nation.”10

In addition to his attempt to further wipe out European blood, Dr. Francia was

determined to quell the resistance of the elite and refashion Paraguay as an autonomous

nation by sealing off its borders.11 As for the Paraguayan elite, Francia felt that an

education was precarious in the hands of the elite12; thus, he reduced their authority and

privileges. Also, Francia’s order to seal Paraguay’s borders meant the exile of foreigners.

Supposedly, Dr. Francia proclaimed, “[I] would rather be branded an international

criminal than allow foreign government to grant permission for other foreigners to

trespass on Paraguayan soil.”13 For those seeking asylum such as blacks fleeing

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Brazilian slavery, however, Dr. Francia had an open arms policy.14 In 1820, José

Gervasio Artigas and his 200 black lancers15, for example, were the main beneficiaries of

this policy when they escaped from Uruguay.

At this juncture, it is important to note that during the rule of El Supremo, several

colonies were established for and settled by freed blacks. In these colonies, blacks

performed dual roles as ranchers and as military soldiers. Dr. Francia gave permission to

blacks to leave Tabapí for another settlement, Tevegó. The blacks were expected to be

self-sufficient and to safeguard the advances of white and mestizo society from Indian

invasions and Portuguese expansion.16 The black settlers were not self-sufficient due to

persistent Indian forays and they constantly needed the state to provide supplies, thus

proving costly to the state. A disappointed Francia consequently secularized all religious

orders and land, returning it to the state.17 Thus, blacks once deemed “Freemen” became

property of the state, meaning that they were now slaves of the government.18

The subsequent dictatorships would reexamine slavery in Paraguay and nearly

extinguish all afrodescedents. In 1842, President Carlos Antonio Lopez enacted the Law

of Free Womb that declared all children born of slaves after December 31, 1843, as

libertos de la Republica, granting automatic freedoms once women and men respectively

reached the ages of 24 and 25.19 Yet, the law did not abolish slavery for everyone—

those individuals born before that date remained enslaved.

Four years later, Lopez commissioned the Paraguayan census of 1846 to survey

the number of pardos20 in Paraguay. Instead of assigning varying degrees of blackness,

the census contained three categories of pardos were in the census: slave, liberto, and

6

free.21 The census revealed that 7.19 percent of the population was black, totaling

17,212.22 That number, conversely, drastically changed after the Triple Alliance War.

Francisco Solano Lopez’s dictatorship succeeded his father’s, Carlos Antonio.

Francisco Solano is known, historically, for his egregious strategy that led Paraguay into

a war against Brazil, Argentina, and Uruguay: the Triple Alliance War. Undoubtedly, a

one-sided war would later leave historians to question the validity of population data

thereafter; regardless, scholars overwhelming agreed on the following: the war

decimated Paraguay’s population.23

According to Williams, Lopez’s war inadvertently completed Dr. Francia’s

unfulfilled plan for mestizaje: a handful of blacks survived, making black history in

Paraguay “almost meaningless from 1870 on.”24 Similar to Francia, Lopez relied heavily

on black military men during the war. He used blacks and mulattoes as “shock troops”

against invading allies, persistently sending the troops to their imminent devastation.25

Although the Triple Alliance War severely decreased the number of blacks and

mulattoes in Paraguay, I surmise that Afro-Argentine and Afro-Brazilian soldiers that

settled in Paraguay after the war replenished those numbers somewhat. Further research

is needed to determine to what extent those former soldiers increased the black populace.

Nonetheless, the footprints left by Paraguayan dictators are indelible and remain part of

present-day Paraguayan society.

Similar to the Spanish crown, the Portuguese crown in 1755 encouraged

Portuguese-Indian interracial marriages in Brazil; however, the crown did not promote

the interracial unions of white colonists with blacks and mulattoes.26 The Portuguese

7

crown’s wishes in addition to the Catholic Church’s condemnation of miscegenation did

not deter mostly white settlers from violently imposing racial mixing upon indigenous,

African, and mixed-race women.27 Beyond this reference, the history of dictatorships in

Brazil diverges from that of Paraguay.

The major difference between Paraguay and Brazil is that Brazilian dictators

adhered to an ideology that Brazil was inherently a racially harmonious society: a racial

democracy. During the 1930s, Gilberto Freyre’s manifesto, Casa Grande e Senzala,

promoted an idea that miscegenation was the national identity of Brazil; and, due to the

smooth mixing of blacks, Indians, and whites, racial discrimination was absent.28

Implicitly stated in Freyre’s racial democracy is the idea of consent: black and

indigenous people willingly miscegenated.

With racial democracy as the cornerstone of Brazilian culture, Getúlio Vargas

“would effectively add the consolidation of the racial-democracy ideology to his list of

national unification and modernizing feats.”29 Hence, under Vargas, blacks would

experience some social mobility. Vargas ruled as a provisional president from 1930 to

1937 and as a dictator from 1937 to 1945.30 During his rule, Vargas instituted several

reforms such as “the legalization of collective bargaining, a minimum wage, paid

vacations, the eight-hour workday, social security, state-provided healthcare, and federal

involvement in public education.”31 Consequently, Afro-Brazilians entered the labor

force in large numbers and were fortunate enough to take advantage of trade unionism.32

To advance further his national unification, Vargas legitimized several Afro-

Brazilian religions and cultural traditions such as candomblé, samba, and capoeira.33 The

nationalizing of certain black traditions signified the browning of Brazilian culture—

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rooting African-ness as part of the national identity. The browning of Brazil’s national

identity proved problematic to the policy of whitening. Whitening, which coincides with

the ideology of racial democracy, was an effort to completely remove African blood from

Brazilian culture through repeated generations of interracial mixing and increased

numbers of European immigrants. At the root of whitening was the theory of Eugenics,

promoting the misconception that African genes were inferior to that of white;

furthermore, the dominant white genes would eventually eliminate black genes through

racial mixing.34

Ultimately, the policy of whitening would not abate. Brazil’s transition from the

Vargas dictatorship to a military regime continued to promote the ideology of a racial

democracy. Edward E. Telles notes that under the military dictatorship, “the mere

mention of race or racism was met with social sanctions, which would often result in one

being labeled a racist for bringing up the issue.”35 Moreover, the military was fully

aware of the mounting evidence that Brazil’s racial democracy was a myth and that

racism and racial discrimination existed; nonetheless, the evidence was readily ignored

because military leaders feared a racial conflict similar to that of the United States.36

As stated earlier, Brazil’s ideology differed from Paraguay’s. Dr. Francia did not

want to whiten Paraguay’s population; instead, he focused on mestizaje in to root out any

European genes. Those Europeans that resisted mestizaje were exiled and not permitted

to return to Paraguayan soil. In contrast, the Brazilian dictatorships promoted racial

democracy that had the ideal of whitening at its foundation and invited European

immigrants to assist in the whitening of the populace. To achieve racial harmony meant

9

the promotion of cultural homogeneity; or, in other words, racial mixing led to the

creation of a superior race without traces of inferior black blood.

Regardless of the ideology, the Brazilian and Paraguayan dictatorships have had a

crippling effect on the socioeconomic mobility of afro descendents. The next section will

discuss the effects in greater detail.

The Crippling Effect

The definition of Paraguayan-ness, I argue, has not changed significantly since 1846.

Williams states, “In 1846, to be Paraguayan was to be settled, mestizo, and Christian.”37

I would amend this statement to replace Christian with Catholic. Williams further states,

“Racially, the Indian and mestizos (who themselves were predominantly Indian) were

physically similar in appearance: pardos were distinct.”38 To this day, Paraguayans,

except for some elites, embrace the mestizo heritage and define their identity as such. I

believe most Paraguayans would agree with the following statement: to know Guaraní is

to know the heart of Paraguay.

However, the definition of Paraguayan-ness is troublesome for Afro-Paraguayans.

Williams’s statement that “pardos were distinct” provides insight as to how the definition

is troublesome. Even though the indigenous features are present, the African features are

still apparent in most Afro-Paraguayan—so much so, mestizo Paraguayans do not

associate Afro-Paraguayans as being Paraguayan. Instead, Paraguayans have striped

Afro-descendants of their Paraguayan ness, displacing their identity as that of Brazilian.

As a result, Afro-Paraguayans are socially excluded from Paraguayan society, essentially

invisible.

10

The experience of Afro-Paraguayans from the community of Kamba Cua

(translated in Guaraní as the place of blacks) serves as an apt example of such social

exclusion. January 6th marks the celebration of Kamba Cua’s patron saint, Saint Baltazar.

I must add that Saint Baltazar (an African saint), similar to Brazil’s candomblé, is an

example of transculturation: the combining of African religion with Christianity to form

a new religion. Thus, the festival held in Kamba Cua’s community worships the saint

through an exhibition of African dance and drumming, linking African ancestry to

Paraguay. Yearly, Paraguayans, including public officials, flock to this celebration.

However, most Paraguayans, if asked, will respond that Afro descendents do not exist in

Paraguay. In this example, Paraguayans ignore the linkages and disassociate themselves

from the African ancestry, clinging to their mestizo heritage only.

Therefore, what does it therefore mean to be Afro-Paraguayan? Is it simply to be

distinct as Williams suggests or extinct as some other historians suggest?39 Admittedly,

Paraguayan historians, with relative ease, conclude that the combination of Francia’s

focus on mestizaje, the Triple Alliance War, and the subsequent Chaco War wiped out

the existence of Afro descendents. Undeniably, however, the very presence of

communities such as Kamba Cua, Paraguaí, and Emboscada disprove the theory of

extinction.

So, to be Afro-Paraguayan must mean to be culturally distinct? Not necessarily.

To be culturally distinct, I argue, means that some level of institutional acknowledgement

of that distinction must exist. For instance, those indigenous groups that were deemed

uncivilized—unwilling to submit to European rule—settled in the Chaco, the semi-arid

northern region of Paraguay. The Chaco consists of various indigenous groups that have

11

maintained their customs and language. Consequently, these indigenous groups are not

referred to as Paraguayans, but, rather, as indios, providing a cultural distinction.

Moreover, that cultural distinction is acknowledged and reflected in the country’s census.

Unlike indigenous people, Afro-Paraguayans are not reported in the census.

Then again, Paraguayans do make color distinctions. Those Paraguayans that

have darker skin color are labeled feo (ugly). I recall a story a Paraguayan friend once

told me: A little girl with dark skin and curly hair got off the bus with her mother in

downtown Asunción. A white Paraguayan woman, passing by, stopped in front of the

little girl and yelled, “Que fea, vos sos!” (How ugly you are!), then stormed off in

disgust.

At beginning of this section, I suggested that to be Afro-Paraguayan meant

invisibility. Even that is somewhat bothersome. On one hand, Afro-Paraguayans are

visible. During the regimes of military dictators Higinio Morínigo, in the 1940s, and

Alfredo Stroessner, in 1967, land used by residents of Kamba Cua to grow crops was

forcefully expropriated, changing the livelihood of the community.40 On the other hand,

Afro-Paraguayans are largely invisible even though Paraguayan newspapers on rare

occasion recognize cultural events that involve afrodescendants. More importantly, the

Paraguayan government does not acknowledge the existence of African descendants nor

has policies aimed to improve the socioeconomic condition of Afro-Paraguayans.

Although it remains unclear as to how to accurately define Afro-Paraguayan ness,

it is apparent that Afro-Paraguayans are discriminated against by a society that claims

that racism does not exist; hence replicating the claims of Brazilian society.

12

Michael Hanchard states, “Being black in Brazilian society, for example,

generally signifies having a lower standard of living and less access to quality health care

and education than whites, but also signifies criminality, licentiousness, and other

negative attributes that are considered essential to people of African descent.”41

Hanchard statement contradicts the ideology of racial democracy. A racial democracy

negates racial inequalities because its premise is that all races coexist harmoniously and

have equal rights. Thus, representations of blacks being unequal to whites challenge the

ideology.

David Covin further builds upon what it means to be a black man in Brazil when

he states, “If a black man is walking, he’s a suspect; and if he’s running, he’s guilty.”42

Covin’s statement highlights how police justify their brutality of blacks. Undoubtedly,

this is an unjust perception of black men. However, to mention the actions of the police

in the same vain as racial discrimination meets great opposition: Brazilians cannot be

racist.

Countless researchers have demonstrated that racial discrimination does occur.43

Notwithstanding the evidence, Brazilians maintain that African descendents are victims

of class inequalities rather than racial inequality. João H. Costa Vargas explains this

persistent denial as the hyperconsciousness of race:

I suggest that Brazilian social relations – their practices and their representations – are marked by a hyperconsciousness of race. Such hyperconsciousness, while symptomatic of how Brazilians clarify and position themselves in the life world, is manifested by the often vehement negation of the importance of race. This negation forcefully suggests that race is neither an analytical and morally valid tool, nor plays a central role in determining Brazilian social relations, hierarchies, and distribution of power and resources.44

13

In essence, Brazilians are fully aware of racial inequalities and their attempt to not think

about race has led to a preoccupancy with race. Furthermore, this preoccupancy enforces

behavior and social inequalities.45 The social inclusion and exclusion are based on those

behaviors and social inequalities. While miscegenation socially includes Afro-

Brazilians46, labor discrimination, poverty, and police brutality enforce socially excluded.

Historically, Afro-Brazilians have been aware of their social exclusion and

Brazil’s discriminatory practices. Thus, their awareness has openly challenged the myth

of racial democracy, pushing for a critical examination of race relations in Brazil.

Subsequently, Afro-Brazilians organized and mobilized to address their socioeconomic

deficits, creating black movements since the 1930s.47

Brazil’s Black Movements and Their Lessons

Black resistance in Brazil has been present since the colonial era: black Brazilians

consistently organized and protested their bondage.48 Thus, that nascent spirit of

resistance would permeate Brazilian history. Early on, black activists understood the

power of creating a political identity. Kim D. Butler states, “The politically strategic use

of negro identity was a prerequisite for creating a power base among a potentially large

constituency.”49 Basically, negro would be used to unify the various shades of

blackness.

To further establish negro as the political identity, black activists found and

published journals and newspapers such as Teatro Experimental do Negro’s Quilombo

(1948-1950), O Associação dos Negro’s Alvorada (1954), and the Associação Cultural

14

do Negro’s O Mutrão (1958) that increased the social awareness and consciousness of

Afro-Brazilians.50 These newspapers appeared in the south, south central, and northeast

regions.51 The 1970s marked a wave of new journals published by Afro-Brazilians that

continued to inform the black populace.52

With a political identity, the movement could focus on increasing participation in

government. The more political positions that blacks obtained, the more weight the

black voice had to influence policy-making. Abdias do Nascimento and Elisa Larkin

Nascimento note that the increased political presence of blacks influenced “Brazil’s

South African Policies in the 1980s and 1990s.”53

Thus, in 1988, congress at the behest of black leaders enacted the following:

Article 5, Section 42 established racism as a crime without bail or statute of limitations;

Article 68, Transnational Provisions determined the demarcation of the lands of

contemporary Quilombo communities; Article 215, Paragraph 1 announced the

pluricultural and multiethnic nature of the country, providing that the state would protect

manifestations of Afro-Brazilian culture among others; Article 242, Sections 1 mandated

inclusion of “the contributions of different cultures and ethnicities to the formation of the

Brazilian people” in history courses; and, in addition to the articles, the promulgation of

Federal Law 7.716 that defines racism as a crime.54

In addition to the laws, Afro-Brazilians appealed to the international community

to provide more pressure on the Brazilian government. In 2001, black Brazilian activists

attended the World Conference in Durban as part of an NGO delegation.55 The

conference allowed the black leaders to draw international attention and spurred domestic

15

attention to the issues of racial discrimination in Brazil. Thereafter, Brazilian legislators

progressively pursued the idea of implementing Affirmative Action.56

Despite the achievements, most scholars note that the Afro-Brazilian Movement

did not unify all black organizations. As Tellus states, “Attempts at mass movements in

Brazil have generally been failures.”57 Also, the black movement has yet to influence

political officials to internalize debates on racial discrimination, which could lead to law

enforcement reforms and better policies that address social inequalities.58 The

aforementioned are both processes that require a large amount of time to develop; hence,

it may be unrealistic to deem them failures.

Although the black movement did not unify all black organizations in Brazil, the

lessons learned from the movement would benefit Afro-Paraguayans exponentially.

Visible Afro-Paraguayan groups are relatively small in numbers and have daunting tasks

ahead of them. Therefore, the strategies used by black activists to first establish a

political identity, second to obtain political influence, and third to appeal to the

international community would serve Afro-Paraguayans well in establishing their own

movement. Undoubtedly, Paraguay is poised for a social movement and Afro-

Paraguayans have a golden opportunity to be the agents of change.

Conclusion59

On July 15th, I received an email from José Carlos Medina, a member of Kamba Cua.

Enclosed in the email was an ABC Color article with the caption, “EL CAMBIO EN

PARAGUAY NO SERIA AUTENTICO SIN EL CAMBIO CULTURAL”60

(Translation: Change in Paraguay will not be authentic without cultural change). The

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newly elected president, Fernando Lugo said this at a press conference. President Lugo,

the left-wing former priest, has earned a reputation as “the bishop for the poor.”61 More

importantly, he symbolizes an end to 61 years of one-party rule, the Colorado Party.

The article reports further that Lugo recognizes the importance of learning from

and incorporating the rich culture that Paraguay possesses: indigenous groups and Afro-

descendants. He proclaims that no one should feel excluded. As a result, José Carlos

may have a glimmer of hope that a Paraguayan president will finally allow Paraguay to

reach its cultural and democratic potential.

I submit that José’s hope is critical for future Afro-Paraguayan movements.

Within the last two years, his community, Kamba Cua, collaborated with other Afro-

Paraguayan communities, Emboscada and Paraguarí, to write a grant to conduct a census.

The communities, fortunately, received a grant from the Inter-American Foundation to do

a census of Afro-Paraguayans in those communities. Even though the census grossly

underestimates the actual numbers of Afro-Paraguayans, it still was an important step.

Data collected from communities were presented in a formal report to the United

Nations Development Program in Asunción. I am unaware of how the report was

received. My conjecture is that the report will have more weight now that the Lugo has

declared social inclusion of all Paraguayan cultures.

Over the past few years, Mundo Afro, a black Uruguayan Organization, has

provided some guidance to Afro-Paraguayans. However, I would implore Afro-

Paraguayans to also learn from their neighbors, Afro-Brazilians. Black social movements

in Brazil have existed since the early 1900s and continue to strive till this day for equality

17

for Afro-Brazilians. The lessons that Afro-Brazilians learned during those years of

struggle could prove beneficial to Afro-Paraguayans, allowing them to effectively

organize and take advantage of political opportunities that could lead to social and

political advancement.

Notes

1 Most historians state 1740 but documents from the Asunción National Archives indicate possibly an earlier date.

2 The actual date of Emboscada’s foundation is unknown. See Blujaki, Agustín

1980 Pueblo de Pardos Libres: San Agustín de la Emboscada. Asunción, Paraguay: [s.n.] p. 12.

3 Cooney, Jerry W.

Apr., 1972 Paraguayan Independence and Doctor Francia. The Americas 28: 407-428. p. 412.

4 Ibid. 413.

5 Williams, John Hoyt

Feb., 1972 Paraguayan Isolation under Dr. Francia: A Re-Evaluation. The Hispanic American Historical Review 52: 102-122. p. 103.

6 Argèuello Martinez, Ana María

1999 El rol de los esclavos: negros en el Paraguay. Asunción: Centro Editorial Paraguayo. p. 43.

7 Cooney, Jerry W.

Apr. 1972. Paraguayan Independence and Doctor Francia. The Americas 28: 407-428. p. 408.

8 Williams, John Hoyt

Feb., 1972 Paraguayan Isolation under Dr. Francia: A Re-Evaluation. The Hispanic American Historical Review 52: 102-122. p. 115.

9 Ibid.

18

10 —

Oct., 1971 Tevegó on the Paraguayan Frontier: A Chapter in the Black History of the Americas. The Journal of Negro History 56: 272-283. pp. 272-273.

11 Sondrol, Paul C.

Oct., 1991 Totalitarian and Authoritarian Dictators: A Comparison of Fidel Castro and Alfredo

Stroessner. Journal of Latin American Studies 23: 599-620. p. 613

12 Cooney, Jerry W.

Winter, 1983 Repression to Reform: Education in the Republic of Paraguay, 1811-1850. History of Education Quarterly 23: 413-428. p. 426

13 Williams, John Hoyt

Feb., 1972 Paraguayan Isolation under Dr. Francia: A Re-Evaluation. The Hispanic American Historical Review 52: 102-122. p. 117.

14 Ibid. 119-120.

15 Residents of Kamba Cua are descendants of the Uruguayan lancers.

16 Williams, John Hoyt

Oct., 1977 Black Labor and State Ranches: The Tabapi Experience in Paraguay. The Journal of Negro History 62: 378-389. p. 380

17 Ibid.

18 Ibid. 380.

19 Ibid. 381.

20 In this context, pardo is interchangeable with black. See —

Aug. 1976. Observations on the Paraguayan Census of 1846. The Hispanic American Historical Review 56: 424-437.

21 Ibid. 431

22 Ibid. 431

23 Scholars such as John Hoyt Williams, Jan M. G. Kleinpenning, and John Gimlette discuss the war’s devastating effects on Paraguay’s population. Kleinpenning’s article, Strong Reservations

19

about “New Insights into the Demographics of the Paraguayan War,” however, questions how much the war actually decimated Paraguay’s population.

24 —

Oct., 1971 Tevegó on the Paraguayan Frontier: A Chapter in the Black History of the Americas. The Journal of Negro History 56: 272-283. p. 273.

25 Ibid. 273

26 Telles, Edward Eric

2004 Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press p. 25

27 Ibid.

28 Ibid. 33.

29 Ibid. 37.

30 Andrews, George Reid

2004 Afro-Latin America, 1800-2000. New York: Oxford University Press. p. 156.

31 Ibid.

32 Winant, Howard

2001 The World is a Ghetto: Race and Democracy since World War II. New York: Basic Books. [1st ed.] p. 225.

33 Ibid. 226.

34 Telles, Edward Eric

2004 Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press p. 28

35 Ibid. 41.

36 Ibid.

37 Williams, John Hoyt

Aug., 1976 Observations on the Paraguayan Census of 1846. The Hispanic American Historical Review 56: 424-437. pp. 434 - 435

20

38 Ibid. 435

39 June 2, 2004, Alfredo Boccia Romañach, a Paraguayan historian, at his book launching of Esclavitud en el Paraguay: Vida Cotidiana del Esclavo en las Indias Meridionales stated that the black identity in Paraguay was extinct after the 1800s. For a discussion of blacks in Paraguay as distinct see—

Williams, John Hoyt

Aug., 1976 Observations on the Paraguayan Census of 1846. The Hispanic American Historical Review 56: 424-437. p. 435

40 Durbin, Paula

2007 Afro-Paraguayans: Identity, Synergy, Census. Grassroots Development: Journal of the Inter-American Foundation 26: 76. p. 26.

41 Hanchard, Michael George, and ebrary Inc.

1994 Orpheus and Power the Movimento Negro of Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, Brazil, 1945-1988; pp. x, 203 p. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, p. 14.

42 Covin, David

2006 The Unified Black Movement in Brazil, 1978-2002. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Co. p. 34.

43 Researchers include but not limited to are Edward E. Telles, George Reid Andrews, Michael George Hanchard, and João H. Costa Vargas.

44 Vargas, João H. Costa

October 2004 Hyperconsciousness of Race and Its Negation: The Dialectic of White Supremacy in Brazil. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power 11: 443-470. p. 444

45 Ibid.

46 Telles, Edward Eric

2004 Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press p. 5.

47 Organizations such as the Black Brazilian Front (FNB) and the Unified Black Movement (MNU or Movimento Negro Unificado) in São Paulo have played a significant role since the 1920s. Activism in other cities began in the 1970s. See—Hanchard, Michael George, and ebrary Inc.

21

1994 Orpheus and Power the Movimento Negro of Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, Brazil, 1945-1988; pp. x, 203 p. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, p. 21 & 29.

48 Minority Rights Group.

1995 No Longer Invisible: Afro-Latin Americans Today. London: Minority Rights Publications p. 30.

49 Butler, Kim D.

Oct., 1992 Up from Slavery: Afro-Brazilian Activism in São Paulo, 1888-1938. The Americas 49: 179-206. p. 181

50 Hanchard, Michael George, and ebrary Inc.

1994 Orpheus and Power the Movimento Negro of Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, Brazil, 1945-1988; pp. x, 203 p. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, p. 108.

51 Covin, David

2006 The Unified Black Movement in Brazil, 1978-2002. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Co. p. 34.

52 Minority Rights Group.

1995 No Longer Invisible: Afro-Latin Americans Today. London: Minority Rights Publications p. 35.

53 Nascimento, Abdias do, and Elisa Larkin Nascimento

2001 Dance of Deception: A Reading of Race Relations in Brazil. In: Charles V. Hamilton (ed.), Beyond racism: race and inequality in Brazil, South Africa, and the United States; pp. xiv, 627 p. Boulder, Co.: Lynne Rienner Publishers p. 130-131.

54 Ibid. 131.

55 Telles, Edward Eric

2004 Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press p. 69.

56 Ibid. 72.

57 Ibid. 75.

58 Thorne, Eva T.

22

2004 Ethnic and Race-Based Political Organization and Mobilization in Latin America: Lessons for Public Policy (A Working Paper). 31. p. 25.

59 The conclusion is a work in progress. I am planning to travel to Paraguay to investigate more.

60 Domingo, 13 de Julio de 2008 Foro entregó documento a Lugo, ABC Digital Asunción

http://www.abc.com.py/articulos.php?pid=432462&fec=2008-07-13

61 Thursday, 14 August 2008 Profile: Fernando Lugo, BBC Online

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7358043.stm

Works Cited

Thursday, 14 August 2008 Profile: Fernando Lugo, BBC Online Domingo, 13 de Julio de 2008 Foro entregó documento a Lugo, ABC Digital Asuncion Andrews, George Reid 2004 Afro-Latin America, 1800-2000. New York: Oxford University Press Argèuello Martinez, Ana María 1999 El Rol de los Esclavos: Negros en el Paraguay. Asuncion: Centro Editorial Paraguayo Blujaki, Agustín 1980 Pueblo de Pardos Libres: San Agustin de la Emboscada. Asunción, Paraguay: [s.n.] Butler, Kim D. Oct. 1992. Up from Slavery: Afro-Brazilian Activism in São Paulo, 1888-1938. The Americas 49:

179-206. Cooney, Jerry W. Apr. 1972. Paraguayan Independence and Doctor Francia. The Americas 28: 407-428. — Winter, 1983 Repression to Reform: Education in the Republic of Paraguay, 1811-1850. History

of Education Quarterly 23: 413-428. Covin, David 2006 The Unified Black Movement in Brazil, 1978-2002. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Co. Durbin, Paula 2007 Afro-Paraguayans: Identity, Synergy, Census. Grassroots Development: Journal of the

Inter-American Foundation 26: 76. Hanchard, Michael George, and ebrary Inc. 1994 Orpheus and Power the Movimento Negro of Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, Brazil, 1945-

1988; pp. x, 203 p. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press Minority Rights Group. 1995 No Longer Invisible: Afro-Latin Americans Today. London: Minority Rights Publications Nascimento, Abdias do, and Elisa Larkin Nascimento 2001 Dance of Deception: A Reading of Race Relations in Brazil. In: Charles V. Hamilton (ed.),

Beyond racism: race and inequality in Brazil, South Africa, and the United States; pp. xiv, 627 p. Boulder, Co.: Lynne Rienner Publishers

Sondrol, Paul C.

23

Oct., 1991 Totalitarian and Authoritarian Dictators: A Comparison of Fidel Castro and Alfredo Stroessner. Journal of Latin American Studies 23: 599-620. Telles, Edward Eric 2004 Race in Another America: The Significance of Skin Color in Brazil. Princeton, N.J.:

Princeton University Press Thorne, Eva T. 2004 Ethnic and Race-Based Political Organization and Mobilization in Latin America: Lessons

for Public Policy (A Working Paper). 31. Vargas, João H. Costa October 2004 Hyperconsciousness of Race and Its Negation: The Dialectic of White Supremacy

in Brazil. Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power 11: 443-470. Williams, John Hoyt Aug. 1976. Observations on the Paraguayan Census of 1846. The Hispanic American Historical

Review 56: 424-437. — Feb., 1972 Paraguayan Isolation under Dr. Francia: A Re-Evaluation. The Hispanic American

Historical Review 52: 102-122. — Oct., 1971 Tevegó on the Paraguayan Frontier: A Chapter in the Black History of the Americas.

The Journal of Negro History 56: 272-283. — Oct., 1977 Black Labor and State Ranches: The Tabapi Experience in Paraguay. The Journal of

Negro History 62: 378-389. Winant, Howard 2001 The World is a Ghetto: Race and Democracy since World War II. New York: Basic Books.

[1st ed.]

24